This is life
by Mistress Scribbles
Summary: This is life. No guaranteed happy endings. In 2007 the former staff of the Junior Gazette find their lives briefly converging once more. Some are happy with their lives. Most are not. Some adult language and sexual refs.
1. Chapter 1

Later…

-x-

1 – Lynda and Kerr.

-x-

'Well then, Mr Kerr. Or can I call you Matt, now?'

There was no reply.

'Fine. Mr Kerr it is.' Lynda paused, sighing. 'So, here we are. Rotten, rotten day. And I don't care what people say about it just being really bad luck – you know you're at least partially to blame for this. You can't even say I didn't try to warn you, because I did, but would you listen?' She checked herself and softened her tone a little. 'I suppose if it's as inevitable as all that, why fight fate? But that's not the Matt Kerr I know. Still. It's a big crowd you managed to draw… although I'd say you've got just as many people you'd consider enemies here as friends… I was wondering which you'd class me as, when all's been said and done…?'

There was still no reply.

'Who can say,' she continued, 'who can say. And does it really matter? Because I know, I've always known, and so have you, that everything I have – _everything_ – I owe to you. And I think you knew too, deep down, that for me to let you hold me back like that would have betrayed everything you ever taught me. I hope the irony wasn't lost on you. It certainly never was on me.'

There was still no reply. Lynda sighed again.

'And now here we are. We can't try to undermine each other any more, now. And, actually, I'm glad it's over. I wouldn't have wished for it to end like this, but then how else could it have ended? For the record, I'm sorry about the way things panned out between me and you. I'm sorry about the way things panned out between me and a lot of people, to be honest. But then, what would you care about that?'

There was still no reply.

'And quite rightly, too,' Lynda continued. 'Why should you care about anything any more? You're dead.'

She stood for a while longer, looking at the floral tributes outside the crematorium. There weren't many – one from his sister and her family, one from the Gazette, another, more ostentatious one from the National he'd worked at before going local once more. The rest of the congregation had been asked to make a donation to charity, instead. Lynda looked at the tributes for the funeral that had taken place before Kerr's – a massive pile of flowers and cards, all dwarfed by a huge wreath spelling the word 'MUM'. It struck Lynda suddenly that Kerr had died childless, and she was hit with a pang of sadness so strong that she had to turn away.

She decided that she would take a walk past the memorial wall before she joined the others for the wake. She told herself she was looking for Jefford and Cooper, but she knew that she would be passing the other two plaques before she got to that pair of unfortunates. She walked backwards along the timeline of deaths – little shiny plaques with dates terminating in 2007, then 2006, then 2005. She knew where the first plaque was, but didn't stop for it. She passed by it slowly, re-reading the inscription – 'JUSTINE LOUISE WALL - b.1968 d.2005… Beloved Daughter, Devoted Mother.' Lynda tutted reproachfully and carried on walking. She stopped for the next plaque, running her fingers over the words, gently. 'COLIN LEONARD MATHEWS. 1972 – 2002. He Found Peace.'

Lynda sighed.

'Somebody really aught to do something about that,' she told herself. She carried on walking.


	2. Chapter 2

Later...

-x-

2 – Spike and Colin.

-x-

There was a moment's wait before the front door was opened. Spike had been warned that Colin would appear very different from the man he had last seen many years ago – he'd even seen a few photographs – but still, he had quite a shock when the other man did finally open the door.

'Oh.' Colin sounded incredibly tired – as tired as Spike felt. 'Hello.' He gestured for Spike to come in. 'Funeral finished already?'

'Yes and no,' Spike replied. 'I thought I'd duck out of the wake early. You've, uh… you've got glitter on your beard.'

'Hmm,' answered Colin, disinterestedly, wiping the back of his hand over the untidy stubble on his chin. 'We've been doing pictures. They're off getting rhubarb at the moment, they'll be back in a bit.' He sniffed. 'Cup of tea?'

'Please.' Spike sank down in the elderly sofa in the small living room and watched Colin wander over to corner of the room that had been designated as a kitchen area.

'Camomile, Elderflower or Green?'

'Got any PG Tips?'

Colin 'Hmm'ed again, and searched through an old tin. 'I've got some decaf Chai,' he announced, 'will that do?'

'Sure.'

'And it's soya milk, I'm afraid.'

'That's fine.'

Colin switched on the kettle and set about making the tea. 'Many people there?'

'Yeah. Lots. All the old crowd – even Kenny and Sarah came.'

'Really.' Colin's tone was empty and sad. 'I should've gone.'

'No,' Spike sighed, 'no, I'm sure everyone understands why you wouldn't want to go…'

'It's not that I didn't want to,' added Colin, 'it's just… you know… it's hard. Surprised you didn't want to stay a bit longer though, catch up with everyone…'

'I'd rather be catching up with Emily than any old friend,' Spike replied. 'You probably see more of that girl than I do.'

Colin smiled a little as he poured out the boiling water. 'She's a sweet kid.'

'I know. God only knows who she gets it from…'

There was a click as the front door was opened from outside.

Spike got to his feet, expectantly.

'Speak of the devil,' he added in a loud voice.

'Daddy!'

A dark haired, seven year old girl came bombing into the living room, carrying a carrier bag full of rhubarb. Spike caught her as she ran and picked her up, spinning her in the air.

'You are getting heavy, little lady! Has your Mommy been feeding you cakes again?'

'I've been to Colin's allotment, Daddy!' exclaimed the girl, excitedly. 'We picked rhubarb – look!'

'Well that's terrific, honey,' Spike told her. 'Tell you what, I got a great recipe for rhubarb crumble, maybe we can make some together, huh?'

'And I lost a tooth!'

'Emily was very excited about the tooth fairy…' added Colin, trailing off as he saw the little boy standing in the doorway.

The boy was frozen to the spot, clutching the doorframe tightly, staring at Spike with trepidation. Spike put his daughter down, offering the little boy a sympathetic smile.

'How's it goin', Graham?'

The boy didn't move, didn't tear his horrified gaze from Spike.

'Graham?' Colin darted around to the boy in the doorway.

'Is he OK?' Spike asked. 'Did I do somethin'?'

'It's just your suit,' Colin explained, quietly. He kneeled down in front of the boy, so that he could meet the child's eye level and took his hand.

'Is it over?' the child whispered.

'Yeah,' Colin told him, 'it's over.'

The little boy nodded at Colin, and burst into a flood of tears.

'Oh…' Colin soothed, wrapping his arms around the sobbing boy. 'Oh, Gray.'

Emily looked up at her father. 'Graham's sad today. He doesn't like funerals.'

'It's OK,' Colin continued to sigh to the boy, 'it's OK, it's OK.'

'We should go,' said Spike, awkwardly.

'Do you want Spike and Emily to leave you be?' Colin asked the boy, softly.

Graham shook his head as he cried.

Colin gave Spike a little affirming glance as he rested his head on the child's shoulder. 'Want to help Daddy get the tea and biscuits?'

'No,' mumbled the boy through his slowing tears, 'S'boring.'

Spike snorted a small laugh.

'Well then, sunshine,' Colin told his son, 'how's about you and Emily go and play in the garden for five minutes?'

Emily looked up at Spike expectantly.

'Five minutes,' Spike told her, 'and then we really do have to go.'

Without another word to either grown up, Emily ran over to Graham and took his hand. 'Don't cry, Graham,' she whispered as she lead him out towards the ground floor flat's little garden, 'we can play Pirates.'

The two men watched their children run out into the garden as Colin brought the two cups of tea over to where Spike was sitting.

'He's been like that all day,' Colin muttered, 'he never even met Kerr… just the fact that there's a funeral going on today really upsets him. Poor mite.'

'Him and Ems get on really well,' Spike observed.

'Yeah.' Colin sipped at his tea. 'It's good for him to have a friend.'

'You, uh…' Spike rubbed his chin, wondering how to broach what was eating at him tactfully. 'You all see a lot of each other these days, huh? Graham and Emily… you and Lynda…'

Colin offered Spike a homemade biscuit. 'Gray's not the only one who needs a friend. We meet up, bitch about our jobs, pool babysitting… admittedly, it's usually me who does the babysitting and her who does the bitching, but that's OK.'

'Guess you two have a lot in common these days,' Spike continued, 'you're a single dad, she's a single mom…'

'She's a terrifying, phenomenally successful media editor, I'm a broken-down basket case who mows lawns for little old ladies…'

'You know what I mean.'

'There is absolutely nothing going on, Spike.'

'Sure,' replied Spike, unconvinced. 'Even if there was, I guess it wouldn't be any of my business any more. I'm kinda surprised she's forgiven you, though. She was beside herself when you… y'know.'

'Went doo-lally?' prompted Colin. 'Yeah, well, one of the things about having a complete mental breakdown is that you tend not to think through the consequences first.'

'Your plaque's still up at the crematorium, I noticed,' Spike added.

'I know,' Colin sighed. 'I keep meaning to do something about that. I suppose that's the risk you take when you fake your own death… you end up with an embarrassing gravestone to deal with once you resurface.'

'You made her mourn for you. You made us all mourn for you.'

'Maybe it's right that it stays there,' continued Colin, half to himself. 'I mean, _that_ Colin Mathews _is_ dead now… I don't know.'

Spike narrowed his eyes over his tea cup. 'Is that why you did it?'

'I did it because I'd gone doo-lally,' Colin told him. 'You can't put reason to that. Still, it felt… symbolic. I stood on the cliff, and I watched the sun come up, and I took all my things out of my pockets and took off my clothes, and with each trapping I threw into the sea I felt like something had come away from me. Something heavy. You know, like Marley's chains?' He sipped his tea, leaning back into the sofa. 'I don't think I've ever been as blissfully happy as I was the day I lost my mind. I could still be there, wandering around, no possessions, no ties, no chains, like I was those three years… but life has a habit of catching up with you. And so here I am.'

'She was never the same after she thought you'd killed yourself,' Spike told his cup.

Colin put his own cup down, sullenly. 'Don't, Spike.'

'I'm just saying…'

'I've got enough to blame myself for without adding your marriage falling apart to the pile, thank you.'

'That's not what I… never mind.'

'I've made my peace with Lynda over this.'

'What about me, Colin? When are you going to make your peace with me?' Spike pushed his cup away. 'Or don't my feelings count as much to you as hers do?'

Colin stared at Spike for a moment, then got up and knocked on the back window, causing the children playing in the garden to look up from their make-believe.

'Come on, Ems,' Colin told the girl. 'Five minutes are up.'

'Give us a minute,' protested Emily.

Spike got to his feet.

'Listen, Colin. I'm sorry. It just… it kills me that you get to see my daughter so much while I hardly ever do. You of all people should understand what that feels like.'

Colin gave Spike an understanding half-smile.

'Listen…' Spike dug in his coat for his wallet. 'Let me give you some money for lookin' after Emily today.'

Colin's face fell into a scowl. From his expression one would think Spike had just offered to spit in his eye.

'OK…' added Spike, trying another tack, 'at least let me pay you for the rhubarb.'

'No.'

'C'mon, Lynda told me you sell that stuff you grow sometimes. How much does it go for?'

'It's a present, Spike…'

'Just a couple of pounds… c'mon. A fiver.' He held a five pound note out at Colin.

'I don't want,' hissed Colin, darkly, 'your fucking money.'

Spike took a deep, controlling breath, and pocketed the note again. 'Fine. Fine. I'm sorry if I insulted you. Thank you for looking after my daughter this afternoon.'

'You're welcome,' Colin replied, insincerely.

Spike leaned over and rapped on the window himself. 'Emily! Time to go.'

'Hang on, Daddy…'

'Now!'

'Look - I didn't mean to snap. I've having a rough day myself.' Colin scratched an eyebrow, looking at Spike's shoes. 'I'm sorry that you don't see much of Emily, Spike. You're right, I do know how horrible that is.'

'Well,' conceded Spike, 'it's not your fault. It's Lynda's.'

Emily trudged through the living room on her way to the front door. 'I'm ready, Daddy.'

'Sure.' Spike forced a polite smile at Colin, watching the other man scoop his son up in a fireman's lift and drop him down into the soft folds of the battered sofa. 'Thanks for the tea.'

'Listen, Spike.' Colin lowered his voice as he ushered Spike towards the flat's front door. 'Do yourself a favour, eh?'

'Huh?'

'No matter how bad it gets between you and Lynda, even if you're screaming down the phone to each other every night, no matter if she threatens never to let you see Emily again…' Colin took a harsh breath through his teeth before he could finish his sentence. 'Don't ever wish her dead.'

'Colin, I wouldn't. Not after that scare with the fire…'

'Not even for a second,' insisted Colin with a frown of concern.

'Not even for a second.' Spike took Emily's hand. 'See ya, Colin.'

'Yeah. Bye. See you next week, Emily.'

Her hand still in her father's, Emily turned to wave to the other man as he shut the door. She turned to Spike.

'What was Colin saying about Mummy?'

'Colin wasn't talking about your Mommy. Mind as we cross the road, sweetheart.'

Emily stopped at the kerb with Spike. 'But he said…'

'Sometimes, when a grown up sounds like they're talking about one thing, they're actually talking about something different,' Spike explained as they crossed the road.

'So what was he really talking about?'

'He was talkin' about Graham's mommy.'

'Oh.' Emily pondered this. 'Can we have custard with the rhubarb crumble?'

Spike lifted his daughter up into a piggyback. 'Oh, you betcha.'


	3. Chapter 3

3 – Sarah, Toni and Jamal.

-x-

'Right. Who's the white wine, and who's the Guiness?'

Toni Tiddlesly reached across with a smile for her beer, leaving Sarah Jackson to her dry white wine.

'Thanks, Frazz.' Sarah checked herself. 'Sorry! Jamal.'

The man Christened Fraser Davis and formerly known as Frazz, but now named Jamal Islam grinned into his orange juice. 'That's OK, I'll let it slide this time. I do have to warn you, though; next slip up and I'll have to issue a Fatwa on you. 'S'nothing personal, just Secret Evil Muslim Policy, I'm afraid.'

Sarah just blinked at him. Jamal leaned into her, conspiratorially as Toni giggled.

'That was a joke, Sarah. You shouldn't believe everything you read in The Sun, you know – we don't all have our sense of irony surgically removed when we convert.'

'I don't think that's very funny,' replied Sarah.

'Well.' Jamal sipped his juice. 'Your wife didn't have her Hijab ripped off her head at Tesco's last week.'

'I haven't got a wife.'

'You probably need to work on that.'

Toni laughed. 'And there was me worrying that getting Religion would stop you being such a sarcastic bastard.' She took another sup. 'Did you notice the Paps outside? Bloody vultures,'

Sarah shook her head. 'Paparazzi at a newspaper editor's wake. That's not vulturism, that's cannibalism.'

'Reckon they're here for you?' Toni asked the other woman.

Sarah shook her head. 'They'll be there for them.' She nodded towards Kenny and his model girlfriend, perching at the bar.

'He's a jammy bugger, isn't he?' Jamal breathed. 'You know what I heard? That she saw him on TV one day and before the evening she was on a plane to Kyoto to watch him on tour.'

'I heard she sent a new present to his dressing room every night,' added Sarah. 'Customised guitars, signed limited edition Beatles records… didn't even say who they were from for the first fortnight. And _this_ was while she was still with Ben Affleck. Apparently she ditched _him_ by email from a Cyber Cafe in Jakarta.'

'Whatever the stories,' said Toni, watching the couple quietly sipping their drinks, 'they shift more magazines these days than the Beckhams. They're like a Blue Peter version of Kate Moss and Pete Docherty – the kids love 'em. To catch a snapshot of them comforting each other at a funeral would be quite a coup. Especially with you there too, Sarah.'

'You don't think…' started Jamal before shaking his head dismissively. 'Nah…'

'What?' Chorused the women.

'They wouldn't be from Lynda's paper, would they?' Jamal asked, quietly. 'After all, she'd know they'd be there, and it would be great for her sales…'

Toni cast a sad glance over at Lynda, who was sitting in a corner being Talked At by a couple of sycophantic journalists, and looking utterly miserable. 'No,' she sighed at the others. 'I think there's a lot on her mind today, but I doubt that using her old friends' presence at her mentor's funeral as tomorrow's front page is one of them.'

Sarah narrowed her eyes at the other woman. 'They're with_ you,_ aren't they?'

Toni raised her eyebrows, her still youthful looking face a picture of well rehearsed girlish innocence. 'Sarah, please! You can say what you like about the Beeb dumbing down, but we haven't quite stooped to Pap Snaps yet.'

'Right.' Sarah cast her eyes down, sheepishly. 'Sorry.' She offered Toni a lopsided smile. 'Only you can understand how difficult I find trusting journalists, having worked with so many.'

Toni beamed. 'Not a problem. Now.' She whipped a small Dictaphone from her pocket and held it towards Sarah. 'Tell me all about your new book.'

'Tiddler!' Exclaimed Sarah, forgetting that Toni hadn't used that nickname in years.

'You can't blame her for trying,' grinned Jamal, 'She's an Entertainments Correspondent - it _is_ her job.'

'I'm not Entertainments,' protested Sarah, 'I'm Arts & Literature! It's a whole different colour of cheese!'

'Come on, Sarah,' Toni goaded, 'after twenty years of friendship you could at least tell me who's going to die…'

'…I kill off a new character,' snapped Sarah. 'It's an annoying little journo who likes spoiling surprises, so she gets battered to death with her own pint of beer.'

'Just as long as it's not Petunia,' added Jamal. 'You're not allowed to kill Petunia.'

'They're my characters!'

'I've got four daughters, Sarah. Four of them and they _all_ love Petunia to bits. Can you imagine what my house would be like if you killed her off? Do you ever spare a thought for the suffering of the Fathers when you write these books?'

'They're just books…'

'No,' continued Jamal, 'Petunia has to make it to the end. And then preferably denounce her past of Witchcraft, read the Qur'an and marry a nice Muslim boy.'

Sarah squeezed the bridge of her nose. 'And why should I do that, Jamal?'

'Hello? Fatwa!'

'That's it.' Sarah got up from the table. 'I'm going to rescue Lynda. Or get her to rescue me…'

She wondered off in Lynda's direction, leaving Jamal and Toni to exchange mischievous glances.

'It _is_ going to be Petunia, isn't it?'

Toni put her Dictaphone back into her pocket. 'No. It's Willy The Wizard. Somebody at her Publisher's leaked it two days ago.'

Jamal tutted. 'But Willy was _my_ favourite!'


	4. Chapter 4

4 – Lynda and Colin

-x-

After the ninth ring, the other end of the phone was picked up with a muffled curse.

'Hello?'

'Answer me this, Colin,' snapped Lynda. 'How the Hell does he expect to "See More Of Emily" when he keeps insisting on buggering back off to America?'

There was a pause, in which Lynda knew Colin was shrugging. 'He's your husband, Lynda.'

'He's _your_ gender!'

'Lynda…' Colin sighed. 'It's half past four in the morning. I've got to get up in a bit…'

'So have I,' fumed Lynda. 'And I can't sleep! It's all just so…'

'Look. It's been a crap day for all of us, OK? I've already been up half the night with Gray as it is.'

Lynda paused for a second, experiencing a momentary pang of guilt. 'I didn't wake him…?'

'No. Put it down, Lynda.'

'What?'

'The cigarette. Put it away.'

'I'm not smoking a…'

'You've got it in your mouth! Don't make me show you the slides again.'

'I've had a really bad day…'

'I don't care. You told me to stop you starting again.'

Lynda took the unlit cigarette out of her mouth and threw it in the bin. 'Spike hates it,' she added, sullenly.

'Is that why you keep doing it?'

Lynda sighed. 'I could have done without him today.'

'Emily was really happy to see him.'

'Yeah.' Lynda paused, glumly. 'He took her to the park, you know.'

'Oh?'

Lynda tucked the phone receiver under her chin as she fired up her PC. 'Yeah. He took her to the park and made her a pudding before tea, and when I came home I made her eat her greens and do her homework. Tell me, Colin, why is it that he always gets to be the fun guy and I get to be the bitch?'

'If it makes you feel any better,' Colin replied with a yawn, 'having been in both of your positions, you've definitely got it easier than him. It's much better being there for the tantrums and wet mattresses every day than getting the treats and the circuses for a few hours a week, believe me.'

'Don't you dare side with him!'

'I'm not, Lynda, I'm just…'

'Well, don't. He's only staying til the weekend, then he's running away to America again.'

'Honestly,' Colin sighed, 'doesn't that man ever think about his Carbon Footprint?'

'Never mind his bloody Carbon Footprint, what about his daughter? As soon as he goes, Emily'll cry for days. Again.' She clicked into her email. 'Hello… I've got something here from you.'

'Oh yeah,' muttered Colin, 'the ad designs you sent me. I looked over them and gave my suggestions, like you asked.'

Lynda opened the attachment. 'Colin. This is a completely different ad.'

'Yeah, well. With all respect, Lynda, there's a reason that you were never involved in the advertising for the Junior Gazette.'

'Because I didn't want to!' Exclaimed Lynda.

'And you keep on telling yourself that, Kid.'

Lynda smiled to herself. It was a good advert. Snappy, eyecatching and just the right side of confrontational. It was exactly the sort of thing that she couldn't come up with – except… she squinted at it.

'This is an advert for a website, not a magazine.'

'Oh. Yep.' Colin yawned again. 'Make it a website. 'S'better. You can have forums, Q&A, networking… friendship… dating, etcetera.'

'Hang on. Hang on.' Lynda scrolled through the notes on Colin's email. 'I'm just reading your proposal. It makes sense.'

'It's not a proposal, Lynda. It's just some ideas. Your target market's single parents, and I should know what it is that we'd find useful.'

'You'd think _I'd_ know, too...'

There was a brief pause in which Lynda knew Colin was shrugging, non-commitally. 'Well, you're still new to this game.'

Lynda stretched. 'I'm going to need somebody who knows their stuff to run it.'

'No.'

'But think of all the people you'd be…'

'No.'

'But you're so good at…'

'Hmm. Do you have tea?'

'Tea? Yes.'

'Lots of tea? Far Eastern? Phone the Chinese Ambassador and get me all the tea they have.'

'Would you do it then?'

'No!'

Lynda frowned, continuing to scroll through the email's text. 'What's this bit at the end…?'

'Oh.' Colin sounded a little embarrassed. 'Um. Yeah. Kind of need to call in one of those babysitting favours next week.'

'You're not going out! You never go out!'

'It's just a cup of coffee, only she doesn't get off work 'til after 6, and…'

'She?' Lynda beamed. 'You're going on a date?'

'It's just coffee! Turns out Graham's new Counsellor's an…'

'You're going on a date with your son's Counsellor?' Lynda pulled a face down the phone. 'Is that allowed?'

'Lynda. Stop. Listen. Coffee. It's just coffee. She's an old friend, that's all. End of conversation.'

'Yes, but what about…'

'End of conversation means end of conversation! Ergo, vis-à-vis, Goodnight Lynda.'

'But the…'

'Good_night_.'

The phone went dead on the other end. Lynda shook her head, and began to draft a reply to Colin's email, trying to wheedle some more ideas out of him.

'Mummy?'

Lynda turned to see Emily standing in the doorway in her pyjamas.

'Oh, hello Ems. I didn't wake you, did I?'

'A little bit.'

Lynda smiled. 'How could I only wake you up a little bit?'

Emily picked at the doorframe. 'Were you talking to Daddy?'

'No, Emily. That was Colin.' Lynda started getting back to her email.

'Is Daddy coming tomorrow?'

'Yes, sweetheart.'

'Is he staying long?'

Lynda turned around to face her daughter again. 'Only for a few days. Then he's going back.'

Emily nodded, blinking back a few tears.

Lynda opened her arms wide to the girl. 'Come here.'

Emily didn't go to her mother, but stayed, sniffing, in the doorway instead.

'Daddy said Colin and Justine never really loved each other, that's why they split up…'

'What a horrible thing for Daddy to say,' frowned Lynda. 'I want you never to repeat that, especially to Graham…'

'Is that why _you're_ splitting up?'

'No. No. You know that's not true.'

'But you don't love each other now…'

Lynda opened her mouth and closed it again a couple of times. 'It's not as simple as all that.'

'Of _course_ it is, Mum!' Emily wiped her eyes, only making way for fresh tears. 'If I love him and you love him, why can't Daddy stay?'

'We've been through this, Ems. We were fighting all the time…'

'You're still always fighting!'

'Emily…'

'Why can't you sort it out, Mum?' Emily screamed, marching back up the stairs. 'Why can't you both just sort it out?'

Lynda winced as her daughter slammed her bedroom door. She closed the half-written reply to Colin. She opened up a new message box and got as far as writing Spike's email address, then quickly leaned over and switched off the computer. She sat at the desk, rubbing her eyes. A couple of birds were starting to sing in the garden. She checked the time. It was nearing five in the morning. She wandered through into the kitchen and put the kettle on. It was going to be another long day.


	5. Chapter 5

Five – Kenny and Sam.

-x-

The Blonde threw herself back on the hotel bed, and waited for the room to come back into focus.

'Kenneth Phillips,' she panted harshly, 'you are one _filthy_ Son Of A Bitch!'

'You love it,' croaked Kenny from the other end of the bed. 'Besides, _Samantha,_ you started it this time. What kind of girl slips a warm pair of French Knickers into a guy's pocket at a _Wake_? One that needs Sorting Out, that's what kind.'

'Couldn't help myself,' she smiled, watching a bead of sweat roll from her thigh and onto his. 'Seeing you there with Lynda and Spike and the others… it just reminded me of those old days.' She began to crawl over to face him. 'You have no idea how bad I wanted you back then.'

'I think I have,' Kenny replied, 'I worked it out when you chased me round the Far East.'

'You were being so _nice_ today,' continued Sam. 'I love it when you're nice.'

'I'm nice a lot of the time.'

'…which is why I love you.' Sam leaned over and kissed him, playing with his hair a little. 'I knew, just _knew_, that there was this… this Beast under all that politeness. And when you're being polite to Lynda Day… well, that _really_ brings out the animal.'

Kenny frowned. 'What are you trying to say?'

'You're always extra aggressive after you've been talking to Lynda,' explained Sam, 'I love it.'

'That's not true,' Kenny protested.

'That time you tied me up and did unspeakable things to me for three hours,' Sam reminded him, 'who was it you'd just come off the phone to?'

'Well… all right,' conceded Kenny, 'but that was just a…'

'It was the same after we'd met up with her when you were playing London,' Sam continued, 'it was a good thing I didn't have any shoots for that week, I'd have had trouble camouflaging those friction burns. And Cairo – remember Cairo, when she wouldn't stop texting? I couldn't sit down for days.'

Kenny laughed. 'Yes, sorry about that…'

'Don't apologise!' She traced a fingertip over his chest. 'Think maybe we could do it again?'

'What – now?'

Sam nodded.

'I don't know,' sighed Kenny, 'we should get some sleep. We need to fly back tomorrow.'

'No,' Sam protested, 'can't we stay here for a while? It's nice. It's… nostalgic.'

'I've got to start work on the next album with the guys.'

Sam wrinkled her nose. 'You mean, _you've_ got to start doing all the work while the others just bum about?'

'It's a collaborative process…'

'I know. You do the writing, Lyndon does the drugs. And then gets all the credit.'

Kenny rubbed his eyes. 'Don't start this again…'

'He's a loser, Kenny. You're better off going solo.'

'Maybe I _do_ put in more work than him, but he's the Front Man. He's the Charisma…'

'You're more famous than he is!' Exclaimed Sam.

'Thanks to you…'

'No, Kenny. Thanks to _you._ You're the talented one, and everyone knows it, especially Lyndon. Why do you think he's keeping such a close reign on you? He's terrified you'll leave!'

'Now, Sam, that's not fair…'

'Just stop and think for a minute would you, Kenny? The man's name is Lyndon Dear!'

'So?'

'So you don't think that maybe, just maybe, your life might be in some sort of repetitive cycle at all?'

Kenny blinked, shaking his head. 'I don't know what you're talking about, Sam.'

Sam slouched next to him, pouting. He pulled the covers up over the both of them.

'Let's just get some sleep, eh?'

Sam continued to sulk at the ceiling.

'Sam?' Kenny opened an eye and peered sideways at the Blonde. 'I do love you, you know.'

'I love you too,' she conceded, huffily.

'Night, then.'

Sam closed her eyes as the breathing next to her slowed and deepened. And then came the talking – the subconscious mutterings that she still hadn't found the heart to tell him about. It was the same every night – every single night.

'Yes, Lynda… Of course, Lynda…. Sorry, Lynda… Sorry.'


	6. Chapter 6

Six – Colin and Cindy

-x-

The slim Blonde broke into a wide grin as she opened the door.

'Hi.'

'Hi! Come in.' She ushered Colin inside. 'I'm so glad you were able to make it.'

'It certainly no mean feat getting Lynda Day to babysit,' replied Colin with a small smile, 'so I'm a bit amazed I've managed it myself.' He sniffed. 'You're cooking.'

Cindy took his coat. 'Hope you haven't eaten yet. I found this great lasagne recipe on the Vegan Society's website… who knew, you can get pretend cheese these days?'

Colin shrugged. 'Wonders of the modern age, eh?' He scratched his brow. 'I thought this was just going to be coffee.'

'I know, I know.' Cindy gestured for him to sit down before scurrying back into the kitchen. 'I just thought, this is such a special occasion, you know? Seeing you again after all these years…' she appeared again in the kitchen doorway, her face falling suddenly serious. 'I thought you were dead, Colin.'

'I know,' sighed Colin, concentrating on the cards on Cindy's mantelpiece, 'and I'm so sorr…' He frowned. 'That card's a mistake.' He got up and crossed to the mantelpiece. 'Tell me this card's a mistake, or a joke or something.'

'Nope.' She smiled at him again as he picked up the card, emblazoned with a pink, glittery round number. 'Thirty years young, last Sunday.'

'Thirty. You are not thirty!'

'Fraid so.'

'_Thirty?_' Colin set the card down, rubbing his eyes. 'I am so old!'

'Only six years older than I am,' Cindy told him over her shoulder as she darted into the kitchen once more, 'it's not that bad.'

'I don't know.' Colin sat back down again. 'Start pushing 40 and the big three-oh suddenly seems like peanuts. At thirty your life's still ahead of you, you can still get a decent career, there's still time to get hitched and have kids…'

'Hmm.' Cindy came back into the sitting room with a bowl of crisps. 'Well, I'm in a job I love, at least.'

'You don't ever think about having kids?'

Cindy began uncorking a bottle of wine. 'Can't.'

'Oh.' Colin looked at the carpet, embarrassed. 'Um…'

'It's all right.' Cindy gave him a small smile. 'I had what I thought was a scare when I was at Uni, got checked out, and… and no. It's not going to happen for me.'

'Cause of Him?' ventured Colin, 'what He did to you?'

'They don't know. It can't have helped, certainly.' She uncorked the bottle with a hard tug of the corkscrew. 'My patients are my Babies.'

'Well. It's good to know Graham's in such good hands.' He shook his head politely at Cindy's offer of a glass of wine.

'Ah.' Cindy sighed, 'about that. I've asked for Graham to be transferred to a different Counsellor…'

'What?'

'She's a really lovely lady, and a very good Counsellor. She's got five years experience on me…'

'But Gray likes you!' Colin complained. 'He's just started to get used to you…'

'It's inappropriate that I Counsel him, Colin. Given the circumstances… our friendship and all…'

'We haven't seen each other since I left school!'

Cindy shook her head. 'I'm really sorry, Colin. I just don't think I can do him justice. I only want what's best for him, in the long run.'

Colin fiddled with a thumbnail. 'Me too. He'll be really upset, though.'

'There's nothing to stop me seeing him as a friend,' added Cindy with a hopeful smile. 'Please have some wine.'

'I don't, usually…'

'Please?'

Colin stared at her for a moment, then nodded a grudging acceptance.

'So,' said Cindy as she poured. 'What happened? What happened to the brilliant Pink Rabbit Man?'

'He died.' Colin cleared his throat, nervously. 'I'm sure Graham's told you all about what happened.'

'He told me how he feels about it,' Cindy replied, 'which I can't talk about, as you know. But what about you? What happened to you?'

Colin paused, taking a drink of the dark wine. 'Life happened to me. Got married in '99… way too young and to the first woman who'd have me – Justine, her name was – a fellow Sales Rep and a J Name to boot. Should've seen that one coming.'

Colin looked up at Cindy, expecting her to ask another question, but the woman just watched him, waiting for him to speak again with a sympathetic smile.

'Obviously, it fell apart after a couple of years,' continued Colin. 'It was bound to. That was when I finally snapped. I take it you heard about my striptease on the cliff?'

'I went to your memorial service,' said Cindy, softly. 'Do you remember doing it?'

Colin nodded. 'It's weird… it was like I was watching the whole thing through a screen. I went away, wandered around Asia for a while, spent a year or so in a Buddhist monastery, then one day I was in Gwangju and I saw this poster for a touring band. And, second left from the middle, plain as day… was Kenny Phillips. It was like this bucket of cold water. I just thought, I had to go home. I had to let everyone know I was still alive, I was OK. I looked up where Lynda Day was working and went to her office.' Colin laughed a little. 'She hit me so hard. They nearly called the police on her. She couldn't even hear me apologising for the first few minutes, she was screaming so much. And then she stopped, and I remember this like it was yesterday… she asked me if I'd spoken to my Mum or Justine yet. And I said no, and I remember seeing her start to cry, and thinking how strange that was. And then she said…' Colin stalled, reliving the memory. 'She said "you poor, stupid bastard, you've got a son." Justine had found out she was pregnant when we split and she hadn't told me, the bitch. Having a baby'd been all she was after, in the long run. I'd been a Dad for three years and I hadn't even known it. I tried getting in touch, but she didn't want to know. As far as she was concerned, me still being alive was just a big inconvenience to her, and she made seeing Gray as difficult for me as she could. And I started to wish her dead. Talk about being careful what you wish for.'

He finished off the wine in his glass, and Cindy leaned across to refill it.

'It wasn't your fault.'

'Yeah, right,' Colin said, bitterly, 'she just got on the wrong train, right?'

'It was just a really, really bad stroke of luck,' replied Cindy, 'it had nothing to do with you.'

Colin shook his head. 'I wanted it to happen, and then it happened. It was Karma. And, you know what? If I had the chance to turn back time, stop it happening… to her… to all those people… I wouldn't. 'Cause I'd risk custody of Graham. What sort of person do you suppose that makes me?'

'It makes you a very devoted father.'

Colin snorted in derision. 'The sort of father who'd take a terrified three year old boy away from his mother? Poor Gray had only just met me and all of a sudden Mummy had gone and he was stuck with me. I've warped that poor kid for life. I'll be lucky if I come back as a tapeworm after all this.'

'Is that all this is about?' Cindy cocked her head at him. 'Some massive Karmic debt you feel you owe?'

'No.' Colin sighed, indecisively. 'Yes. No. I don't know.'

Cindy put her hand on his knee. 'He does love you, you know. You're his whole world. You make him feel safe. And the breakdown… not knowing about Gray… certainly the bombings – none of those were your fault. You do know that, deep down, don't you?'

Colin just looked at her.

'So how about cutting yourself some slack?' Cindy continued. 'How about letting that wonderful Pink Rabbit Man live again?'

'Not another one,' grumbled Colin. 'It's bad enough I've already got Lynda on at me.'

Cindy still didn't move her hand from his knee. 'Maybe we miss the old Colin.'

'Well I don't. I escaped him back on that cliff, I'm not letting him in again. It was a front, a crutch, like an addiction…'

'And you don't think all of this is just another crutch?' Cindy bit her lip. 'Colin, this isn't the real you.'

'I know. But neither was that, really. I'm not sure I know who the real me is.'

Cindy smiled slightly. 'Well, now it seems like we're getting somewhere.' In the kitchen, a timer chirruped, and Cindy's smile widened. 'And dinner's ready!'

-x-

Colin frowned, double-checking the clock. 'It's not nine o'clock already?'

'Fraid it is,' Cindy replied, pouring out another glass of wine for Colin.

'We've spent all evening just talking about me,' apologised Colin, 'you've barely breathed a word about yourself…'

Cindy shrugged. 'I'm interested in hearing about you. Besides, the night's still young.'

'No. I need to get back.' Colin got to his feet, only to be struck suddenly by how dizzy he felt. 'I shouldn't have drank all that wine.'

'Stay a bit longer?' asked Cindy. 'Have a cup of coffee… sober up.'

'And make Lynda babysit all night?' Colin had to laugh a little at that. 'Not bloody likely.'

'From what you said, she owes it to you,' Cindy replied. 'How many times have you been out since Justine died?'

Colin took a moment to think up an honest answer to her question which didn't make him sound utterly pathetic. 'Going out's overrated.'

'You need to get time away from being a Dad,' Cindy urged. 'It's only healthy. What do you do about socialising? What do you do about sex?'

Colin raised a small, ironic smile. 'What's that?'

The words had barely left his lips before Cindy forcefully grabbed his collar and kissed him. It took him a moment to overcome his surprise and for the briefest moment, he considered relaxing into it, and staying that way. He'd underestimated how much he'd missed that kind of attention, that sort of closeness with somebody. And the woman kissing him really was so very, very lovely…

He stepped back. 'I can't.'

'I'm… I'm sorry,' stuttered Cindy. 'I didn't mean… that is, I _did_ mean… I've always really liked you, you know.'

He took another step back, grabbing his coat as he went. 'I can't,' he repeated.

'Maybe we can meet up again?' Cindy started to follow Colin as he made his retreat to her front door. 'Take Graham out somewhere? Take things nice and slowly…? I'd like that.'

He wanted to explain. Dear God, he wanted to explain. But there wasn't an explanation to give. As he opened the door for himself, there was only one thing he could think of to say.

'I can't.'


	7. Chapter 7

7 – Spike and Lynda.

-x-

Lynda immediately knew who was knocking on the door. Even though he wasn't even supposed to be in the country any more, only one person would ever knock on her door with quite such a level of half-contained aggression as her soon to be ex-husband. She kept one hand on the doorframe when she opened it, barring his way in, and glared at him.

'I thought you were leaving yesterday.'

'Changed my flight.' Spike narrowed his eyes at her. 'Is that all right with you?'

'I'm sure it's none of my business. Been having fun?'

'_Wonderful_ fun,' Spike replied. 'Me an' Jamal checked out Billy's set at the Comedy Store last night, then I had a few drinks with Toni and her Beeb buddies today.'

Lynda raised an eyebrow. 'Any good?'

'Yeah, a couple of them were pretty hot. But then, I've always had a bit of a thing for Girl Reporters…'

'I meant, Billy's set.'

'Ah, it was terrific. He lasted about two minutes before he got gonged off. Of course, he claimed discrimination. Britain's First Sit-Down Comedian, he's callin' himself. I said to him – "Billy, you're British and you're sitting down, but you kinda need to work on the comedy aspect." He says that two outta three's not bad, so…' He trailed off. 'So there you go.'

Lynda sighed, but didn't budge. 'What are you doing here, Spike?'

Spike blinked, sadly. 'I miss Emily. Is she in?'

'Spike, it's 10 o'clock at night. Of course she's in, she's been in bed for nearly two hours.'

'Oh.' Spike frowned, licking his lips. 'Say, mind if I come in and see her anyway? You always do a crappy job of tucking her in.'

Lynda bit her lip. After a moment's pause, she dropped the arm that was blocking the door down to her side. 'If you wake her up…'

'I won't.' Spike avoided meeting her eyes as he brushed past her in the doorway. 'I promise.'

_We all made promises_, Lynda told him silently, watching his back as he crept up the stairs to their daughter's room.

-x-

Lynda tried to settle herself back on the sofa as she waited for Spike to come back downstairs. After ten minutes he joined her, sinking down into a chair opposite her.

'Here we are again,' he sighed. 'Just like old times.'

Lynda picked at a loose thread on her skirt, irritably. 'Please don't, Spike.'

'What?' Spike raised his eyebrows, innocently. 'Hey, why shouldn't I start feeling nostalgic? After all, I'm gettin' Divorced in a few weeks time. Makes a guy think.'

'Stop acting like you're the only one who's hurting,' replied Lynda, quietly.

'Hurt? Why should this hurt? I mean, you and me are gonna be getting the hottest fashion accessory for any go-getting Thirty-Something about town, aren't we? Everybody who's anybody's got a Divorce these days – Julie, Colin… isn't Sarah on her second now?'

'Technically, Colin was Widowed,' Lynda corrected.

'Pot-ay-to, Pot-ah-to,' replied Spike with a slight sneer. 'At the end of the day it's the same boat we're all cramming into, and not a paddle between us…' A small object on the coffee table caught his eye. He picked up the ashtray as though it were smeared in excrement. 'Been smoking again, Lynda?'

Lynda didn't blink. 'Been drinking again, James?'

He put the ashtray back down, folding his arms. 'What if I have? I'm miserable as all Hell, why shouldn't I?'

'You know all too fucking well why you shouldn't.'

'Don't you dare preach to me, Lynda,' Spike seethed. 'Do you have any idea how much it eats me up to look in the mirror every night and see my Goddamn father staring back at me?'

'You don't have to turn into your father, Spike. It's your choice.'

'Is it?' Spike let out a short, hysterical, joyless giggle. 'Divorced before the age of 40 – dragging a poor kid through the mud of my failed marriage and across the Atlantic all the time – depressed, angry, alone… think any of those were really my decision?'

'Don't blame the divorce,' snapped Lynda. 'We've talked about this. We've been over it and over it. It was the only way. You agreed!'

'Did I.' There was no inflection of a question in his tone - rather a flat, unhappy sarcasm.

'Yes. You did.'

'And what about Emily?'

'Emily won't have to grow up in a madhouse, watching her parents screaming abuse and throwing plates at each other.' Lynda avoided Spike's gaze. 'Wouldn't you have liked to have avoided that when you were a kid? I know I would have.'

'Your parents never threw plates at each other!'

'You don't know that!'

'I've met both your parents, Lynda. They're not the plate throwing kind.'

'Maybe not.' Lynda went back to picking the thread out of her skirt. 'But I am. And for the record, it's not exactly encouraging for me when I look in the mirror either… you might see your Dad, but I end up seeing your mother, which is disturbing on several levels.'

Lynda's comment managed to raise a genuine smile from Spike.

'Why are we doing this, Lynda?'

'Spike, stop it.'

'Why are we doing this to ourselves – to Emily?'

Lynda just shook her head, he gaze still cast down at her knees. Spike got up from the chair and walked over to sit next to Lynda on the sofa.

'Lynda…?'

'The divorce is going ahead, Spike,' Lynda told her lap. 'It's practically complete. We can't just…'

'Why not? Lynda, it's our marriage.'

'You're drunk,' replied Lynda. 'You're drunk, you don't mean it.'

'I'm not drunk. And even if I was, it doesn't change the fact that…' Spike wrapped a hand around Lynda's fretting fingers. 'I still love you, Lynda.'

'Stop it, Spike.' Lynda wiped a tear away from her eye. 'Please, please stop.'

'Seeing you again… it still gives me the shivers,' continued Spike, 'just like it did the first time I laid eyes on you. Whenever I go away it helps me forget how in love with you I am. But I can't stay away. I've never been able to stay away.'

'We've got to.' Lynda caught another tear with her free hand. 'We have to stay away from each other, Spike. We're no good for each other…'

'Lynda, please.' Spike could feel himself starting to well up too, in spite of his best efforts. 'We're husband and wife. We've made the most beautiful, smart, wonderful little girl together. This has got to be worth saving. It's got to be worth giving one last try.'

'"One Last Try"?' Lynda suddenly stopped quietly controlling her tears and lurched forward with a loud sob. 'Spike, have you ever counted how many "last tries" we've given ourselves? It has to be at least a hundred. It never works, Spike. It never, ever works! We always end up in the same place. It doesn't work. It's broken!'

'It's not broken,' pleaded Spike. 'It's just… we just lost our way, somewhere.'

'This _is_ our way!' Lynda cried. 'It has been from page one. Don't you see? We have to give up this fight, for everyone's sake. We have to concede defeat.'

'You want us to quit? Just like that? Just... just run out of Fight?'

'If it was just you and me I'd keep on at it, I'd keep on fighting.' Lynda tried in vain to keep the stream of tears from completely soaking her cheeks. 'But it isn't just you and me any more.'

Spike squeezed Lynda's hand. 'Don't say you're doing this for Emily's benefit, Lynda, I'm begging you. Don't load that sort of responsibility on the poor kid.'

'Well,' Lynda replied, reproachfully, '_you've_ been perfectly happy to blame it on everything and every one but your own stupid self… not just me and my job, people who weren't even there to defend themselves… Colin's little disappearing act… Sarah and Kenny's success… your poor Dad… I bet when you were sitting at Matt Kerr's funeral you were trying to come up with reasons why us splitting was _his_ fault…'

'Well Lynda, you gotta admit, as role models go, he didn't turn out to be the kind I'd really want a wife of mine to have…'

'See?!?' Lynda exclaimed. 'Saint Spike of Los Bloody Angeles. Nothing's ever your fault, is it?'

Lynda tried to pull her hand away from Spike's, but her husband kept a firm hold.

'I know what you're trying to do, Lynda.'

'No you don't!'

'You're just trying to push me away so that you don't have to deal…'

'Shut up, Spike!'

'…don't have to deal,' persisted Spike, 'with the fact that I still love you. Are you listening to me? I'm still so in love with you. And I'm not leaving until you can look me in the eyes and tell me honestly, once and for all, that you're not still in love with me too.'

Lynda kept her head down.

'Lynda?'

Still, she couldn't look back. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet eyes with him.

'Lynda.'

Lynda tried to stall, fighting back more tears. They were such simple little words – words that they'd said to each other thousands upon thousands of times… casually at breakfast, passionately after furious arguments, reassuringly at funerals, joyfully in the Maternity ward. And desperately – so very desperately – each and every time they chose to give it One Last Try.

'You know the answer, Spike.'

Despair tugged at the corners of Spike's mouth. 'You don't love me?'

'I never said that.'

'Would you please give me a straight answer, Lynda Day? Just the once?'

In spite of Spike's firm grasp of her chin, she managed to look away from him. 'Why do I always have to be the Bitch, Spike? Why is it always me who has to be tough and make the right choice? Don't you think _I_ want to make Emily pudding and fill her up on custard before teatime? Don't you think _I_ want to just say I love you and pretend that we can just wave a magic wand and make everything better? We can't get back together because it's the wrong thing to do. Do you understand that, Spike? Do you understand?'

Spike paused. 'You honestly believe that?'

'I think you do too.' Lynda met eyes with him again. 'Don't you?'

Spike looked at her for a moment, then got to his feet with a sigh.

'I'll see if I can get a ticket back to the States for tomorrow night,' he replied. 'Could I at least take Emily out one last time before I go?'

Lynda nodded. 'She'd like that.'

'Yeah. Um.' Spike cast his eyes down to his shoes. 'I'll see myself out, then.'

Lynda nodded in agreement, and Spike turned towards the door.

'Don't go.'

Spike stopped, and turned back around to face Lynda, curiously.

Lynda put her hand up to her lips. 'Oh. I said that out loud, didn't I?'

'Yeah.' There was a long, awkward pause. 'So… um… do you want me to stay or not?'

Of course she wanted him to stay. Of course she did, of course! She loved him. Her daughter loved him. Only an idiot would make him go. Her insides screamed at her to make him stay.

She got to her feet, clearing her throat, wondering what she was going to say next.

'Ignore me,' she told him. 'I'll, erm…' she patted his elbow in a conciliatory manner. 'I'll see you tomorrow morni…'

She kissed him. She hadn't meant to do that.

Spike pulled out of the kiss, staring at her.

'Lynda, what are you doing?'

She wiped her mouth. 'Making a terrible mistake.'

She kissed him again, on the lips, on the neck, on the shoulder, and allowed him to hoist her legs up around him and carry her back to the sofa.

-x-

'Cigarette?'

Lynda smiled slightly. 'No thanks. Drink?'

'Nah.'

Lynda cast a nervous glance up at the ceiling. 'Hope we didn't wake Emily.'

'Don't think we did.' Spike wrapped an arm around her as they surveyed the trail of destruction their violent lovemaking had created across the living room.

'Well,' he told her.

'Well,' she agreed.

'One Last Try?'

She laid her head on his shoulder. 'One Last Try.'

-x-

THE END


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